


Introspection

by Penstrokes



Category: Super Science Friends (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I wanted it to be more Jung venting to Introbert, Kinda, TFW your own personality theory becomes your own therapist, but it just kinda turned into more of an introspection between Jung and Bert about...the berts, post fall out!Jung, the psychologist is his own therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 03:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16421996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstrokes/pseuds/Penstrokes
Summary: With emotional wounds still fresh from his fall out with Freud, something that had been a long time coming yet blind siding all the same, Jung is still a mess.Unable to sleep and overwhelmed by his own feelings on the end of his friendship and collaboration with Freud, Jung finds comfort from someone he hadn't expected.





	Introspection

It had been inevitable, now that Jung could take a step back and see where the traces of their former friendship had lead them. All the little arguments, conversations and gestures had become so glaringly clear it hurt to see in his mind’s eye. Like footsteps along a sandy dune, tracing where they’d gone and where they’d end up-and all the places they could have but  didn’t- the clarity of it all stole the life from him. Freud had always been stubborn, something that Jung hadn’t ever dreamed of being used against him. How set in his ways his former mentor was, how sure of himself. The confidence that Jung had envied and watched in awe.

 

How dismissive he was outright. Freud had once called him his heir- a title Jung once wore as a badge of pride and honor now stained him like the scent of Freud’s cigars. Every moment of that conversation burned into his mind now and forever more, just how _easily_ five years of friendship had evaporated in an exchange of words that grew from disagreements to full out attacks against one another. It had happened so fast, so fluidly that it even now, in the wreckage of their relationship, Jung found himself wondering if and when all of it had been hidden and waiting for such a moment.

 

Jung stared blankly at the dark ceiling, neither asleep nor awake, but a strange in between. Passively he lay in bed, beneath the sheets, watching the hours crawl by. He had three hours until he had to get up. Despite the fatigue, he cared not for sleep.

 

For anything.

 

Introbert left the mindscape on his own, floating in front of Jung’s vision. Being a ghost, he couldn’t obscure much anyway. Not that there was much Jung hadn’t already mesmerized from his hours of ‘observation’ thus far. His face was a marriage of worry and concern. A tender sort that Jung himself had found himself using with some of his own patients. He shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the berts were a part of him, after all.

 

Jung shifted in bed, turning over to stare at the wall instead, like a child refusing to take his medicine.

 

“Hey, Carl.” He began gently. Introbert folded his arms laxly, giving off a cautious smile.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jung huffed, getting the energy for a small show of annoyance from somewhere. He wasn't used to people calling him by his first name, perhaps that had been it. 

 

Jung could deny it all he wanted, he could try to pretend he didn’t see the facts and couldn’t predict the outcome.

 

“You might not want to, but I think it’s something you need.” Introbert lowered himself onto the bed.

 

“I know this technique-”

 

“-and you know it works. You’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later. It’s not healthy to bottle up your emotions. You of all people should know that.” Introbert reminded him in that gentle yet serious way that only he could manage to pull off.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jung whined, tossing once again to the other side of the bed.

 

“It’s been months. If you don’t air out the bandaids, it’s going to get infected.” Introbert was more stern this time.  

 

“If you can’t talk about it with yourself, then who can you talk to? A psychologist like yourself should understand this better.” He continued, letting it hang. It was Jung’s move on where to take this conversation now.

 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” Jung protested weakly, sitting up with his knees drawn in.

 

“It hurts a lot.” Introbert stated simply, once again letting Jung take the wheel.

 

“It’s Sigmund’s fault. He didn’t care about what I had to say, he’s only interested in his own theories.” Jung spat, clenching his blankets in his fists. The tears threatened to spill once again.

 

“It wasn’t fair, was it?” Introbert glanced at the clock before turning back to Jung. His host and discoverer shot a glare at him.

 

“You shouldn’t even have to ask. You and Extroberta were there too.” Jung muttered angrily, he wasn’t going to bother put on his glasses.

 

“I want to know how _you_ feel.” Introbert explained, twiddling his thumbs idly.

 

“You’re in my head all the time, don’t you two know this pretty well?” Jung inquired, half out of genuine curiosity and half out of wanting to point the attention towards something else.

 

“Not all the time, we can hear, see and feel your emotions more than your thoughts. Besides, I think you’ll feel better saying these thoughts out loud.” Introbert clarified, haven’t moved since he ‘sat’ down.

 

“Where’s Extroberta anyway?” She was the more talkative of the two berts, yet he hadn’t heard from her since the fight.

 

“She’s got something else planned, but that’s not important. What’s important is how you feel. Let’s just talk. You and me. We don’t really talk much, do we?” Introbert waved his hand  as if shooing away a fly.

 

“I would have thought Extroberta would have jumped at the chance to talk about feelings.” Jung mused. The light was still dull but the shadows were beginning to grow duller minutely.

 

“I can still be a good conversation partner, I just let Extroberta have her day in the sun when it comes to talking. She doesn’t like it when she gets pent up for so long. I can handle being tucked away for longer.” Introbert shrugged, leaning forward.

 

“Between the two of us, Berta and I’ve agreed over time, I”m the most like you.” Jung had rarely heard the Berts refer by each other by shortened names or nicknames. Typically, they didn't refer to each other by any name at all. He supposed it’d get tiring once in a while to continuously use their full names, being slightly unwieldy as they were.

 

“That doesn’t explain why _you’re_ the one leading this session.” Jung pointed out. He was curious, yes, but he also didn’t want to go back to talking about that letter and the last time they met face to face.  

 

“You’re the best therapist we know, for one.” Introbert started, giving him a reassuring wink. “It’s only normal that the one who’s most like you- when you’re level headed- is the one we’re banking on the most to help you out of this slump. Extroberta said she didn’t feel she could handle it as well, so I took control of it. You always were a fan of using introspection in your work, weren’t you? ”

 

“I’m flattered.” Jung responded dully. He supposed it was and he was grateful for it too. If nothing else, he would _always_ have those two by his side no matter what.

 

_Out of obligation or because they believed in him?_

 

“You’re like a dad to us, you know. Somewhere between ‘Dad’ and ‘Friend’ and ‘Boss’.” Introbert chuckled at Jung’s surprised expression.

 

“Friend?” Jung repeated, genuinely taken by surprise.

 

“Do you not want us to? Is it too informal?” Introbert asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I just never thought you’d see it like that. Something more formal, like a ‘title’ felt more-”

 

“Is that what you want?” Introbert blinked, his expression neutral.

 

Again, the ball was in Jung’s court.

 

“...No. That’s- I’m happy.” Jung stumbled to get his thoughts straight. He’d never once took a moment to really examine what their relationship with him was and his with them. Jung didn’t hate their company, nor did he wish they’d never been with him in the first place. There were times where he’d wished that his mind was truly his and his alone once more but there were other instances when he was grateful that they were there for him.

 

Like now.

 

“It doesn’t seem like there’s anyway for you to get rid of us anyhow so it’s good that we can all get along. Do you feel a little better now?” Introbert glanced at the clock and so did Jung. If he slept now he could get some rest, no matter how brief.

 

“Do you want to talk more?”

 

Jung didn’t answer Introbert, falling backwards onto his pillow. His eyes stung when he closed them. A reminder of how tired he was, how much he’d cried and lost. How Freud had used him in a sense and how he’d used Freud as well, albeit to a much less toxic degree.

 

“I still can’t sleep.” Jung moaned into his sleeve.

 

“We planned for that too.” Bert mentioned as he moved back into Jung’s mind, his voice becoming thoughts once more.

 

“Planned?”  Jung tried his best to lose himself in the exhaustion, to hope it’d whisk him away to sleep.

 

“You didn’t think we’d let you suffer through another sleepless night, did you?” Extroberta piped up, her eternally energetic voice rang through their mind space.

 

“We would have done this sooner but you know how long term possession tires us all out. The last thing we need is for all three of us to be too tired to function.” Jung could feel the numbness starting to spread throughout his body, a different type of numbness that he recognized.  A comfortable disconnect between him and the real world flooded his senses with an absence _of_ senses.

 

“Will you two be ok out there?” Jung looked up at the now rosy pink ‘sky’ of the mind space, around him lay a soft green expanse of grass.

 

“Extroberta can handle the outside, I’m better off handling things in here. Both reminding her to take a break and you...well, I think I can do another session or two. When you want to.

 

 _If_ you want to.”

 

It was an open invitation. Jung could go back to the relationship they had had before, a distant but friendly one. He could step forward into this new, more involved one, the glimmers of which were before him.

 

“I appreciate the offer.” Jung answered as he attempted to drift off to sleep. At least in here he could truly be himself amidst  the sorrow, the rage, the regrets.

 

He could be his own sanctuary in which to heal.


End file.
